For Love Or Money
by Circe Rose
Summary: Terry and Lara rekindle their relationship. (So of course, Terry doesn't die in the Cradle of Life). However, Terry's love for money might interfere. And then there's that little problem of Pandora's Box coming out into the world...please r&r!
1. Chapter One

So, here I am, writing a Tomb Raider fic…well, I remembered that Gerard Butler was in Tomb Raider 2 and thought I had to do something about that terrible ending. (Don't kill me for the title). So, take a look, tell me what you think! I would really welcome your comments (be nice) as I don't have a clear outline for this! (Naughty me, hehe). So, here goes….

**For Love Or Money**

"Put it back."

I watched as he slowly turned to me, amazement plain on his face.

"You're joking, right? We're taking this with us – it's ours!" He continued to push Pandora's box into his bag, laughing to himself as if what I had said was amusing.

"You're not walking out of here with that box. Put it back." I struggled to keep my voice steady, to hide my fear that now, after all we had been through, he wouldn't listen to me. I fought the urge to kick the relic back into the bubbling pool of acid it had come from.

"No, I don't think so. I helped you find it and keep from everyone else. This is my reward Croft! I'm taking it with me". He closed the bag, hefted it to his shoulders, and began to move toward the exit of the cave behind me.

"Terry - "

"NO!" His shout echoed of the walls as he stood in front of me. He grasped my shoulders in an iron grip; it took all my will to keep myself from flinching. "This is worth a fortune, Croft!" He said it urgently, shaking me.

"It could kill _millions_ of innocent people," I replied, schooling my face into an expression of cool discipline and control.

"Alright, now you're being dramatic." He made to walk around me, but was stopped by the barrel of my gun. "So," he began softly, eyeing the weapon in my hand, "you have authorization to kill me, right? Well than, you'd better do it, because if you think just standing in front of me is going to be enough - !" I felt the back of his hand connect with my cheek, sending me crumpling to the ground. My temple struck a rock and I tasted blood.

"You don't have it in you to stop me." He towered over me as I struggled to stand. "Stop trying to be noble and think for once. All your fine ideas and morals – they're not real. _I_ am, and you've loved me. I don't know how strong you think you are, but you're not gonna choose the world over me."

Damn his bloody pride. And damn him for telling the truth. For all my skills and adventures, being able to beat anyone at almost anything, killing people without a second thought, and always remaining calm and cool – this was one thing I couldn't do. I looked at my gun, lying close by my feet where it had fallen from my hand. All I had to do was swiftly grab it and I could shoot him from the ground before he knew what I'd moved. His eyes followed mine and he chuckled softly.

"No, you can't get it. And you wouldn't anyway Croft. I know you still have something for me". Curse his arrogance! Would he be able to stop me reaching around and taking his own weapon? I fought with myself, knowing that I couldn't let him carry the pestilence inside Pandora's Box out into the world. I should just end it now, shoot him between the eyes! I looked up at Terry and faltered in my internal pep talk. _He had beautiful eyes._ And suddenly, the thought of him lying dead at my feet brought tears to my own eyes.

As though he sensed my wavering resolve, he moved closer, tracing a finger down my cheek. I felt my eyes close treacherously as he leaned in, running his thumb over my lips, parting them. "Croft...," he murmured, his mouth inches from mine.

A/N: So, what do you think? Comments, suggestions….Should I continue it? And, if so, what should happen? Please review!


	2. Chapter Two

Sorry, I know it's been a while since I put chapter one up! To my lovely reviewers:

Shauniwritesit – "Wowie" – hehe, that was cute, I'm flattered. Thanks for the ideas! hands you Tim Horton's cookies, of which you must not get a lot of in Holland

Random-Battlecry – Yes! It will be done! After all, Terry is by far gorgeous enough to have his own AU. Speaking of which, I love your TR story, it's the perfect tonic for a depressing day! Cookies for you too :D

ITALIAN BELLA – Do you always type in upper case, or were you that excited about the story? (The latter, I hope! Thanks!)

And to the rest, I have run out of anything remotely witty to say, so thank you for your reviews! Keep 'em coming!

And now without further ado, chapter two! (I'm sorry, it had to been done :D)

**Chapter Two**

My resolve melted completely as he laid his lips to mine. I forgot the inner monologue for a moment, basking in the contentment I felt in his embrace. This was the Terry I loved – why couldn't he always be so endearing? We hadn't kissed since that night in Shanghai, and then, I hadn't allowed myself to think of the warmth of his arms, or the gentle way he caressed me; I had been concerned only with the box.

Pandora's box. The bloody nuisance.

Sighing inwardly, but still pretending to move in pleasure that was no longer there, I set about taking the relic from the man holding me. Slipping my arms around his neck, I lightly pushed at the shoulder straps of the bag on his back. But once I had moved them so that they were nearly off his shoulders, I realized the flaw in my impulsive plan: there was the predicament of the very obvious change in weight he would feel once the bag fell to the ground. While pondering this problem, I felt my pulse quicken as Terry's mouth moved from mine to travel down my neck and to my collar bone. Damn the box, I thought, as he started to pull me to the ground. "Croft…" he murmured again, reaching around to cradle my head. I realized belatedly what he was planning, when he began pulling at my shirt. While the thought was not completely disagreeable, I couldn't help thinking of how uncomfortable I was on the rocky ground. And the issue of the relic we'd just found was still in the back of my mind. However, the first matter was the more pressing, as his movements became more persistent.

"Terry" I struggled to get the words out, "we're in a _cave_." He removed his lips from my neck and looked at me for a moment.

"You always were one for observations, Croft," he said, leaning back slightly. A smile pulled at his lips, softening his features. "But I know what you mean – maybe we should wait for another time?" He leaned over me, his lips claiming mine again, and I doubted the sincerity of what he'd just said.

"A good idea, I think", I said, pushing him away with some difficulty. I knew what had to be done next, and the thought of his all-too predictable reaction didn't thrill me. "But Terry … you - you know we can't take the box." I felt his body tense over me and tried to move from under his heavy form.

"Dammit Croft", he hissed, grabbing my arm as I tried to get at his bag. "Why can't you _ever_, for _once_, stop thinking of everyone else?!" He pulled me roughly to my feet, pinning my arms by my side. I tried a few clever ju-jitsu moves I had learned recently, but he knew my tricks. "Forget it. I'm taking it with me. I wanted to take you too -" He uttered a string of curses that were lost in his thick Scottish accent, but I got the general idea as he reached for his gun. Summoning up the last of my nerve, I stared insolently at him.

"Take me too? Oh, don't worry yourself, I'm quite capable of leaving on my own. But you _will not_ leave, not without putting that box back." How _dare _he, especially after just having been so intimate! I hadn't thought him to be this arrogant. Allowing myself to become exceptionally annoyed at the thought, I carefully executed my next move. Taking advantage of the surprise I had provoked with my defiant words, I shoved him roughly, forcing him to loosen his grip on me. With my free arm, I grabbed his gun and flung it into the pool of acid behind us. Having mentally noted earlier that he had had just the one weapon, I then looked around for the only gun left between us.

Never more than a beat behind me, he was already searching for it. We both reached for the gun where it had been lying on the ground, only to realize that it was no longer there. But before I had time to hunt for it, a shot rang out, echoing through the caves.

Looking back, I saw a stunned expression on Terry's face as his right hand went to clutch his left shoulder. I stared, horrified at the amount of blood that began oozing through his fingers. Before I could turn, I felt a powerful blow on the back of my head, sending me crumpling to the ground. Hazily, I watched Terry fall as well, still holding his shoulder and trying to stem the flow of blood. I vaguely saw the outline of a man stoop over him and lift Pandora 's Box from the bag. Wondering dimly why the pain in my head hadn't killed me yet, I slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

A/N: I know, I'm an evil, evil girl! Don't worry though, no one's dead…but that's all I'm saying! Please review!!! :D


	3. Chapter Three

A THOUSAND APOLOGIES MY LOVELIES! I cannot begin to tell you how terribly sorry and disheartened I was when my Terry/Lara muse informed me that it would be taking an extended vacation. To all my lovely reviewers: you are wonderful! Thank you for your encouragement! ;)

Random Battle-cry – Random m'dear, you may have something to do with the time it's taken for me to update;) Your stories are irresistibly delicious, frighteningly addictive, and wonderfully full of ERIK! And your vocabulary is quite unique – 'snerk' –what a word ;) Brrrrrrrrava!

ModestySparrow9 – aren't you just a gem! My story, addictive? I should certainly hope so:D And do, by all means, tell your friends ;)

ITALIAN BELLA – THANK YOU!

Darlian – who is it that ambushed our lovely protagonists? Who indeed:D We shall see ;)

Weapon of Choice – yes, Gerard Butler shouldn't be killed at all, not ever. Who among his fans thinks otherwise? This way please, my Punjab is at the ready.

godarvi, Joel Boon, aranel abeille – sorry to keep you waiting!

Shauniwritesit – deepest apologies to leave you hanging on that cliff. 'Twas horrible of me, I know. Went on a cruise in the meantime though, and met a lovely young man hailing from Amsterdam! (A sailor he was, what a sweetheart). Ah, you Dutch, you can be such dearies :D Do continue your lovely manner by dropping a review! Je bent een topperje! Your encouragement is wonderful!

Now, please read on, my lovely wee sausages :D

* * *

"Lara".

The name hovered in a thick fog, seeming so far away that I began to wonder if I'd even heard correctly.

"Lara".

Again, through an odd, dense mist I heard it, and this time the voice seemed terribly familiar…where had I heard it before?

"What are yo -"

A new voice made an entrance in my pounding head, this one known as well, its clipped British tones pulling me out of whatever haze I was floating through.

"Lara!"

I tried opening my eyes. Blackness. Panic. Why was it so dark!

"Stop it, can't you see she's aslee - "

The British voice again, sharp, annoyed, trying to be hushed, but failing miserably. Concentrate. I focused on every part of my body, beginning with my toes right up to the tips of my ears and the pads of my fingers. Neck, sore, but everything intact. Good. But why couldn't I see anything! I was sure my eyes were open…

"I'm aware of the state she's in, _thank you_. But she's got to come out of it!"

"I hardly think you're the one who should wake her up, and that's certainly not the proper method -"

"After a concussion like that, you shouldn't have let her even close her eyes!"

"I know I'm good _sir_, but I'm not that good. I don't even know how long you were out before we found you -"

Concussion? I didn't have a concussion, what a ludicrous notion. I wasn't susceptible to stupid weaknesses like concussions.

"Buddy, I don't care what you think of me or my methods -"

"I really don't see why you are concerned; you shouldn't even be out of bed!"

"Treating me like a baby, don't be ridiculous - "

The voices warred on, adding to the already booming tattoo of clamor in my head. If only I could slip back into sleep…but hadn't they just said I shouldn't? The Scottish voice, (that's what the accent was), the Scottish voice had said I shouldn't close my eyes, that voice which sounded so uncannily like –

"Terry?"

"You're not helping here, you might as well go back and rest." Again came the clipped British tones of one who is not getting their way.

"I don't need rest!" The Scottish voice, which I was now sure belonged to Terry, was irritated and rising in volume, adding to my headache. However, the owners of the two voices didn't seem to have noticed anything, showing no acknowledgment that they had heard me. Had I even said anything? The voices fought on, making the throbbing in my head almost unbearable.

"Your shoulder - "

"Will heal!"

"Now really - "

Maybe they hadn't heard me. I licked my lips, to try again. "Terry."

"Sod off".

My befuddled brain failed to register that this last comment was directed not at me, but at the irritated Brit on the other side of my bed. However, all I could think of was how incredibly rude and brash it was -how dare anyone tell _me_ to 'sod off'? I'd teach the idiot who'd said it. Nothing that couldn't be mended with a sharp backhand. I concentrated on lifting my arm to deal the necessary punishment, which, in hindsight, must have looked absolutely pathetic if anyone knew what I'd had in mind. Needless to say, my arm didn't go very far, feeling unusually heavy and foreign to the rest of my body. A pair of large, cold hands closed about mine.

"Lara! God, finally!"

Yes, Terry's voice. I smiled, forgetting my disciplinary intentions.

"Terry. You said I had a concussion -" The words were slow, feeling thick and awkward in my mouth.

"Yeah, yeah you must've".

"You're yelling about being treated like a baby -"

"Yeah well, so would you".

"And my head feels like there's a bloody tribal war going on inside." It was becoming easier to speak, my tongue moving more like it was supposed to.

"I'd think so, after being hit -"

"And you've asked me how I feel?"

"Well, yeah - "

"What kind of sodding question is that! I can't bloody see!"

"Oh splendid, she's just fine!"

A new pair of hands touched my head, and there came a blinding flash of light. Squinting, I saw the vague outline of my bedroom, complete with Hilary setting aside the bandage that had covered my eyes on a table. I blinked. There were four Hilarys. Shutting my eyes, I tried to remember why I was here.

"What…what…?" I was at a loss, my thoughts tumbling and tripping over each other. Terry raised a hand to my forehead, his cool palm feeling blissful as he stroked damp hair out of my eyes.

"Just take it slow Croft".

I opened my eyes again, trying to focus. Terry's face swam in and out of view, his bright green eyes gazing intently into my own. I wanted to know everything - why I was in such a helpless state, how I'd gotten here, why Terry had a bandage on his left shoulder, and why I couldn't seem to keep my eyes open. My eyelids drooped, despite my efforts to stay alert.

"What…" I tried again. "Tell me what happened, ok?" My request was soft, so quiet that I barely heard it myself. Hilary, looking slightly put out that his medical advice had been ignored, muttered something to Terry, and left the room. Terry launched into an explanation that was completely lost on me, his soothing tone coaxing my eyes closed, weaving a relaxing net of sound around my bed. The natural lilt of his Scottish voice almost created a song as he spoke. Despite all my efforts to do otherwise, I felt my eyelids close as his fingers stroked my cheek lightly.

* * *

A/N: Yes yes, I know - not much happening.Of course, we can't have any fighting with interesting weapons or smashing of expensive furniture when our two main characters are in their respective states. But don't despair! Please do drop a review in the box dearies! Your comments and suggestions would be much appreciated!


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